


2 a.m. who do you love?

by imstephtacular



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1989, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Taylor Swift - Freeform, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:06:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2724923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imstephtacular/pseuds/imstephtacular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis knows all the great things about Harry. He knows he's tall and handsome as hell. He knows he's got that James Dean thing going on. He knows he has stunning green eyes and grins like the Cheshire Cat. But Louis doesn't like that he's not the only one who knows these things...</p><p>Or...1989 just came out and Louis is jealous that Taylor Swift knows Harry so well</p>
            </blockquote>





	2 a.m. who do you love?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Larry fic and for whatever reason, lately I've had a lot of Larry feels and had the urge to write something
> 
> Also: I don't know all the exact details of some of the canon info (the accident/stitches, etc, and some of the time line) so just go with it
> 
> Title from Taylor Swift's "Enchanted"

“Alright, let’s have a listen, shall we?” Louis flops down on the couch beside Harry, setting his phone on the cushion in between them. He taps for a few seconds and, looking up at Harry’s cherubic, confused face, manages a small grin. “We all know half the bloody album is about you, might as well see what all the hype is about, yeah?”

Harry mumbles something, scratching his head, a sheepish smile forming on his lips. “Alright then, yeah. Go ahead.” Harry curls his incredibly long legs up onto the couch, hugging his knees, and melts into the pillows behind him. Louis matches his movements, mirroring him on the opposite end of the couch and presses play. Taylor Swift’s face appears on the screen and the first track of 1989 begins to fill the room and the space between them.

Louis mainly stays quiet as the tracks bleed into each other and keeps his eyes intently on Harry’s reactions the whole time. Harry closes his eyes as he listens, smiling fondly at lyrics he knows are for him, about him, dedicated to him.

As the record comes to an end and the final notes fade, Harry’s eyes slowly flutter open and meet Louis’, blue-green pools of a mixture of fondness and something Harry can’t quite pin down. “Well,” is all Louis manages and Harry simply nods and repeats the word back.

“Quite fond of you, she was then,” Louis continues, attempting to hid his slight disdain and bubbling jealousy.

“Yeah, guess so,” Harry murmurs, still smiling, but somewhat sadly, wistfully, miles away.

“Right. Well. She did get some things right,” Louis adds, smirking.

Harry perks up, coming back to the moment, and his cheeks light with color and curiosity. “Like what?” He nudges Louis in the ribs and curls his feet underneath him, closing the distance between them.

“Well,” Louis stammers, losing his calm by the second. “That bit about the Cheshire cat smile?” Louis mimics his best Harry Styles smile, looking mad and lovely at the same time and Harry’s tosses his head back in laughter, his bun bouncing along. “And that part about the stitches in the hospital,” Louis continues, reeling himself back into safer territory with some of the less emotional lyrics. Harry nods and Louis takes the cue to continue, mirroring Harry’s position on the couch again, curling his feet up and scooting an inch closer.

“What else?” Harry prods, softer now, shier.

“Well, the bit about James Dean? Nailed it!” Louis proclaims, replacing his anxiety with warmth, pumping his fist slightly. Harry breaks into a deep, belly laugh and scrunches his nose up.

“Yeah, she’s definitely captured me pretty well. Quite a lot,” he adds, quieter.  
“Ah, well, we both know I wasn’t head over heels about you two, but I must admit she’s a helluva songwriter and has a mean eye for detail,” Louis adds, one eye twinkling just barely as he catches Harry’s before clearing his throat and curling up tighter. The two of them stay there, curled into two tight shapes, inches apart, for long minutes before Harry finally lolls his head back and softly starts to snore. Louis smiles, yearning to lean in closer and make himself a little spoon, but resists the urge and silently gets up and puts a blanket over Harry and leaves the room. As he walks away, one of the lines echoes in his head

_He’s so tall and handsome as hell_

 

**

 

“He was sleeping like a big, dumb dog, I didn’t want to wake him,” Louis explains to Niall, Liam, and Zayn at the pub later that night. The other lads nod knowingly and start talking about the football game on the television in the corner.

At the end of the game and three pints later, the bartender turns the television volume down and cranks the radio up instead. An Ed Sheeran song is ending and all four boys break out into singing, mumbling along the lyrics and smiling fondly for their friend. The song fades out and a new tune starts, one Louis thinks he recognizes but can’t place. He goes into a sort of trance trying to pin it down and Liam scrunches his face trying to figure out what Louis is doing. “You ok, mate?” Liam snaps his fingers in front of Louis’ eyes and Zayn and Niall both start drumming on the table, battling the beat of the song Louis is lost in.

Louis ignores them best he can and focuses on the lyrics filling the booth.

_Twenty stitches in a hospital room_   
_When you started crying_   
_Baby, I did too_   
_When the sun came up_   
_I was looking at you_

Instantly, Louis is taken back to the moment the song is depicting. He sees Harry lying in a hospital bed, right after the accident, goofy grin on his face even though he’s had to get stitches and is confined to a stark white room until he heals.

He flashes to another time, long ago, the first time he saw Harry cry. And like in the song, he started crying, too.

“Lou?” Liam is snapping again, Zayn and Niall have stopped drumming, and all three of them are staring at Louis, confused and alarmed.

“I’ll…be right back, yeah…” Louis abruptly stands up and scurries out of the booth, taking his phone from his pocket and dashing for the back alleyway. Outside, he breathes in a sharp, crisp cloud of cold air, and chokes out an exhale.

His head is swimming. The memories like water and oil, swirling in his mind, the alcohol an unfriendly addition to the mess.

Harry crying.  
Harry’s knees curled into his chest.  
Harry’s hair speckled with snowflakes.  
Harry’s arms covered in ink.  
Harry singing softly in the morning.  
Harry drinking tea by the window.  
Harry smiling.

It’s all too much. Louis chokes another breath out and fumbles to pull something up on his phone. He presses it to his face, listening to his heart beating in his eardrum, and waits.

“Louisssss,” Harry mumbles, still half asleep, dreamy and soft-sounding, “it’s 2 am.”

“I know,” is all Louis manages. A long silence fills the space between them. Louis can still hear his heart thundering from his toes to the tips of his ears, the blood flooding through him.

“You still there, Lou?” Harry mutters, sounding suddenly more awake.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Louis doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know why he called. He doesn’t know what he needs or wants to happen next. He just stays on the phone.

“Just come home, Lou,” Harry breathes and Louis realizes that’s all he’s been waiting for.

**

Liam walks Louis to the door of the apartment he and Harry share and makes sure Louis is okay. He hugs him, pats his back, and turns back to Niall and Zayn to join them on their walk back to their place. Louis steels himself and, having trouble with his keys for the first time since he’s lived there, makes his way inside.

Harry is still on the couch where he left him, but now awake and propped up against the pillows, a soft glow from his phone illuminating the tiny living space. He stirs when Louis closes the door and beckons him over without a word. “You ok?” Harry asks, rubbing sleep from his eyes and draping himself over the back of the couch towards Louis’ standing frame.

“I am now,” Louis replies simply, removing his coat and holding it in his hands like he doesn’t know where it goes.

“How was the pub?” Harry asks genuinely, still staring up at Louis with huge shining eyes, a single lock of hair spilling out of the now-messy bun in his hair.

“It was…” Louis trails off, taking a step closer.

“Lou…”

“Harry…”

“What…?” but before Harry can finish a thought, Louis’ body begins to visibly shake, shoulders and fingers quivering in a nervous, unsettling way.

“It’s not fair,” Louis nearly shouts, a pout forming unbecomingly on his lips. “It’s not fair that she knows you like I do. In ways that I do. Better than I do…”

Harry is dumbstruck, unfolding himself from the sofa and pacing towards Louis. “Who?”

“She…I…you’re mine. You’re my Harry. Nobody else should know you the way I do. The way you breathe when you’re half asleep. The way you smile when it rains. The way you cry when someone else is sad, but can’t conjure a single damn tear when you’re in loads of pain. The way you…” and Louis is shaking harder now, his voice laced with both anger and passion, burning his throat raw.

“Louis…” Harry begins, taking another step closer, reaching out to envelop his roommate, his best mate, in his long, warm arms.

“I love you, you stupid idiot, and it’s…it’s not fair,” Louis chokes out, not daring to look into Harry’s gleaming, watering eyes. Harry’s arms wrap around Louis’ shuddering torso and smooth the back of Louis’ hair. Harry hugs him tightly for a moment, calming him down, slowing their heartbeats, easing the shaking, pressing airy kisses to the crown of Louis’ head.

“I don’t have any clue what you’re talking about, love,” Harry finally whispers, pulling back, his arms clasped loosely around Louis’ neck, his eyes searching for a sea glass reflection.

Louis breathes in, finally meeting Harry’s eyes, and quickly squeezing his shut again. “Her. Taylor.” Louis murmurs and Harry’s arms flinch.

Louis sighs, keeping his eyes squeezed shut, terrified to face the rejection he’s anticipating.

And just then, Harry starts to laugh. First it’s a light, bright chuckle, but it slowly grows into a full-bodied reaction, pulling Louis back into a close embrace. Squished against his chest, Louis grunts, “are you fucking joking?”

“I’m…I’m sorry. It’s just…” Harry tries to compose himself, pulling back from Louis and looking him dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry. She’s…she means nothing to me anymore, Lou. I’ll always think the world of her, yeah, but never the way I think of you.”

Louis melts a bit and his knees start to shake again. Harry scoops him up, laughing again, and carries him to the couch. They curl up close and Harry presses their foreheads together. Louis is still trembling, from shock, from confusion, from misplaced anger, from stupid love. Harry smooths the sleeve of Louis’ shirt and rests his arm in the crook of his elbow.

“She has all those memories of me, but that’s all they are. Memories,” Harry explains calmly. Louis keeps quiet. “Oh. And I love you, too, by the way, you idiot,” Harry smirks. Before Louis has time to analyze the breath caught in his chest, Harry is leaning forward to press their lips into the softest kiss. Louis’ body has finally stopped shaking and collapses back into the cushions, gravity forcing Harry along with him, crushing their lips harder together. They burst into laughter, Harry pulling back first, smiling down at Louis and his now-red lips and flushed cheeks.

“Should we…try again?” Louis whispers and leans up to meet Harry this time, resuming the lightness of the first kiss. They kiss softly for some time, slowly building, and Harry eventually has to reposition himself so he doesn’t crush Louis’ small frame with his own. As he props himself up, his hand slips and he lands with a thud against Louis’ shoulder.

Before he can apologize, Louis is laughing, a bright tinkling that eases Harry’s worry that he’s bruised or injured him. “Are you okay?” Harry finally manages.

Louis nods furiously, rubbing his arm. “Shake it off, love,” Louis adds, stifling more laughter.

“Did you just…?”

“Yeah, I did,” Louis replies, settling back into the cushions and curling onto his side, inviting Harry’s body to be the big spoon. Soon he drifts asleep, with Harry humming into his hair, not even caring that the songs lulling him to sleep belong to her.


End file.
